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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328793">Oh, What a Restless Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendsandlor/pseuds/legendsandlor'>legendsandlor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I made a Fallout self insert and I regret nothing, Nick Valentine is a Good Dad, Nightmares, POV First Person, choking tw, panic attack tw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendsandlor/pseuds/legendsandlor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carissa Faucher is a survivor of many things, but what she faces in the daytime often comes back to haunt her in the nighttime. Luckily, Nick Valentine is always willing to lend an ear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nick Valentine &amp; Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oh, What a Restless Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic with my sole survivor, Carissa! She’s a shameless self insert, and I am not regretful.<br/>In this fic, there’s a mention of someone named Gale. He’s Carissa’s little brother, my answer to Shaun. He was also captured by the Institute, but Carissa has no idea what happened to him after that.<br/>Also, at one point Nick mentions that Carissa isn’t an adult yet, and that’s true; she’s only sixteen. She’s already taken down Kellogg in this fic, and visited the memory den.<br/>Alright, I think that’s enough backstory. Let’s get to it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The covers are damp with sweat when I finally untangle myself from them, a maze of cotton and linen that always feels suffocating after my nightmares. I press a shaking hand to my eye, my breaths hiccuping silently. Nick’s probably noticed by now, being a robot and all, that my heart rate just jumped up to racing and I’m breathing like a marathon runner. Might as well get out of bed and talk to him, my brain supplies, and I swipe one more time across my wet cheeks and swing myself over the mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway is dark, as it always is, and my bare feet stick to the hardwood as I plod to the main office. Not surprisingly, Nick’s yellow gaze is already fixed on me as I reach the doorframe, the orange glow of a cigarette the only light to see by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look away from him, at the now-fading wallpaper. “Evenin’.” My voice says, and I already hate how much it’s wobbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Evening, kid.” He replies, picking his case file up to comb through. His bad hand clicks on the light beside his desk. I squint at the sudden brightness, suddenly regretting leaving my glasses back in the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cigarette goes out soon enough, and as he flicks it away and reaches for another one, he makes his move. “Can’t sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laugh dryly. “What, was it that hard to guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look he sends me is amused, but not satisfied with that answer. I backpedal. “Haven’t been able to sleep normally since I got out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles halfheartedly. “Me, I haven’t been able to sleep at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laugh, for real this time, though it’s brief. His smile widens at that, but his face quickly turns sour. “Do you have nightmares?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly I’m interested in the wallpaper again. It’s a faded floral pattern, probably leftover from pre-war.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, walking over to his desk and taking a seat opposite him, like I did when I was telling him about my case. The chair is soft, the only padded one I’ve seen since I’ve got out of the vault. I suppose it’s to make his clients comfortable, but my leg still jumps up and down and my hands still wring together. “Yeah,” I start, teeth digging into my bottom lip to stop its trembling, “pretty common nightmares too. I don’t think I’ve gone a night without one since…” The statement hangs in the air, but both of us know the implication. Nick snaps his case file shut, looking up at me. The yellow of his eyes reminds me of dandelions that grew on the lawn, the ones I would pluck from the earth and hand over to my mother. Flowers and grass like those don’t exist anymore, but occasionally, I see the burnt-out remains of a flowerbed, and I wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid?” He calls out, and I snap back to reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Zoned out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick doesn’t make any comments after that, for which I’m grateful. He merely looks away, his eyebrows furrowing. “You… ever dream about Kellogg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mind reels. There are fingers on my neck,  squeezing, squeezing hard enough to choke the life out of me and my head is slamming against something and kellogg laughs and oh god was this what it felt like for dad am i going to die here i can’t be done yet i need to save gale what will happen to him if i’m gone i can’t protect him oh god oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The fingers are clawed away, and a warmth is wrapped around me, not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough to stop me from thrashing. Nick is yelling something, but everything sounds waterlogged, like I’m still in the deep end. I smell oil. Oil like the stuff my dad used to have me check for in the old family car, our fingers dark and sticky as we let the hood fall. Oil like the stuff Codsworth runs on, and occasionally asks me to pick some up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oil like the stuff that powers the man holding me in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—sorry, Carissa, I’m so sorry—” He rambles as I finally feel my head come up. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes are wet, now that I think about it. I turn my head away from him, cheeks burning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘S okay,” I mumble, feeling ashamed. “I—I’m just glad he’s dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick falters for a moment, but eventually reaches out enough to hold my cheek with his good hand. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about being scared.” His golden eyes flick downwards. “You’ve gone through a lot of trauma, a lot more than any of my clients, and you’re not even an adult yet.” I almost snap back a retort, but I think better of it. “It’s okay to admit that you’re afraid. God knows I was when I first woke up, and I didn’t have a trained mercenary after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I giggle quietly. I lean into his hand, his warmth recalling memories of comfort and safety. For a moment, I flash back to when my father would hold me in his arms and sing to me, but it passes quickly. Instead of singing, Nick’s mechanics whir, and I find my eyelids drooping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick?” I ask, my voice soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you… stay with me until I fall asleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My question takes him aback, but he recovers quickly. He stands up, gesturing to the bedroom. “Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, I’m laying myself on the bed, and I hear the thud of his shoes being kicked off, and the groan of the mattress as he lowers himself beside me. I lean towards him, pressing my ear right up against where his heart would be. He pulls the covers up over me, his hands lingering above the angry scars covering my back and arms. Before I close my eyes entirely, I look back up at him, and smile warmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Nick.” I whisper the next words under my breath. “Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As my vision gets darker, he leans over and presses a plastic kiss to my forehead. “Love you too, kid,” he whispers, and I slip away.</span>
</p>
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